The Week I Opened Up To The Heath.

— You seem happier.

— I am!

Roderick can see by the blush of my cheeks, the broadness of my smile and my back-to-usual chattiness that something has changed over the last week.

It’s been a week I opened myself up to the woods again.

And I can feel how different I am from the Marta from a week ago. Immersed in her feelings to such a deep state she was starting to drown. She wouldn’t see the signs. It was her new normal even though it wasn’t normal. And it took someone to reach her hand and save her from drowning.

I understand this now. I wouldn’t back then. I was fine sinking in my emotional state.

One thing I’ve learned is that confinement takes a toll on everyone, no matter how mental or emotionally strong you feel. It cripples in without noticing.

I’m glad I wrote about my feelings publicly. I’m glad Mom reached out and pulled my hand even when I was saying I was absolutely fine under water.

I’m glad she pushed me to do what works best for me: walking.

Ever since, everything has been looking up. It wasn’t an easy start, though.

The first day I left it was pretty late. I wouldn’t dare to see people around. I didn’t know what to expect. I felt great, though. No one around, no anxiety during my walk. Funny that I felt totally fine walking around empty streets at 23.00… the thought of getting COVID19 scares more than assaulters in The Apocalypse, apparently.

I felt released as soon as I put a foot on the street and walked towards The Heath.

But the moment I got home fear crippled in like a massive bitch. It was loud. And what did I do? had a shower —washed my hair twice, changed the bedsheets, changed my pyjamas and opened the windows. Sounds extreme, I know. Fear makes you do extreme things sometimes. It’s been 2 months in a room with a balcony, I expected it somehow. In this case the trick worked, all I needed was to feel safe. And if that meant doing all that at 2.00AM so be it.

Fuck it.

The worst I could do at this point was undermining my anxiety. It wouldn’t have been a very kind move.

First night out done. From now on, everything ahead is progress.

Over the next 3 days I only dared to go out at night. When I was certain no one would be around. Although each day I would leave a bit earlier. The process was similar: I would walk the same safe route towards The Heath, once there I would breathe in as deep as my lungs could take, smile, wander around the empty streets of the village and head back. The process would take as long as I needed. No restrictions.

I wouldn’t care how sore my muscles would be the next morning or how late it would get. I did what felt right.

As a reward, I would cry my eyes out on my way back home. Every single night. Not because I didn’t want to come back, nor fear, nor anxiety. Quite much the opposite. Tears of release for three consecutive nights. Suddenly I found myself revealing hidden emotions that once made me strong in confinement. My body finally felt free to let it all go.

When I let myself be vulnerable in the woods, I could feel the air was acting like a shower of antiseptic in my heart: stingy but healing.

And every night, usually a couple of streets before reaching back home, I would feel how the tears would fade away to turn into something stronger. Over those three first nights I would release, build, and fit another piece of my puzzle.

By the time I got to bed I would feel better and more relaxed. Each night building up on the previous one.

After those three nights, and my first day out, I started to leave the house during daylight. Not letting my guard down though: always keeping social distance and wearing my mask —shocking I got some weird looks from people who weren’t wearing any masks because they might think they’re better than the forces of Evil or something.

Anyway. Over the last days I’ve been feeling good enough to keep a walking routine at a suitable time during daylight. Opening up to the woods everyday. Embracing nature to the chore of my soul. Injecting sunshine in my veins.

I have to say the feeling I get every time I walk to the woods stays strong. Like a child who’s discovering the world for the first time. Constantly curious, amazed by every single detail nature brings: the colour of the flowers; the smell of the wood, the leaves and the ground; the brightness of the green leaves of the trees, the yellow and green of the grass. The sound of the birds; the peacefulness of the butterflies, the robins, and the turtle doves as they fly. All the tonalities of the sky as it changes into the sunset. The sun shining in my eyes. The soft breeze of The Heath on my skin.

Everything looks beautiful —well, nature is beautiful when we respect her.

And every step feels stronger, every tear heals quicker. It feels alive. I feel alive again.

Yesterday at some point, when I got completely alone in the middle of the woods I put ‘let it go’ very loud on and widely opened my arms as I walked.

Looked a bit loony? Probably —won’t deny it.

Felt good? Fucking great.

The smile I had as soon as I got out was not only drawn by happiness but by strength. I guess I had to get lost in the woods to find myself back again. So yeah. I guess this is what happiness means. When I dared to be vulnerable enough to gather a stronger, inner strength.

Roderick’s back to his room with his glass of wine, ready for another session of online gaming.

— I’m glad you feel like that again.

— Thanks, man. Me too.